


My History, His Story

by nathaniel_hp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-20
Updated: 2011-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-11 20:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/482484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathaniel_hp/pseuds/nathaniel_hp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A find in the attic leads Teddy Lupin on a journey of discovery. Is this his chance to get to know the father he never had a chance to meet?</p>
            </blockquote>





	My History, His Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [secretlypadfoot](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=secretlypadfoot).



> Written for the 2011 rs_small_gifts fest for secretlypadfoot. Thank you to brighty18 and thrihyrne for the thoughtful comments. This story would be so much less without you! ♥

**My History, His Story**

What would you do if you found a box full of letters and photographs? And not just any old box, but one that quite obviously belonged to your father. I know lots of stories about my parents and Nan showed me all of Mum’s school stuff and toys, but I don’t really have anything that belonged to Dad. I can’t even tell whether the things I remember are memories or just stories that I’ve been told often enough to believe I actually remember them.

Anyhow, the box. Would you have taken it to Nan and shown her? I thought about that. The thing is she’s my mum’s mother, and I don’t think she liked my dad all that much. She never says so, but - Well, she didn’t really know my dad very well, anyway. I also thought about asking Uncle Harry. He used to tell me the best stories about dad. 

You would have taken the box to Harry? Well ... I didn’t. Not yet. You want to know why? All my memories of my parents are those of other people. I want something that is just my own. Something that I could tell others if I wanted to, but mostly something that is mine. So what I did was take the box down to my room and sort through the letters and photos. Took me a couple of days but then it all started making sense.

 

 

You know what’s funny? I wrote a very similar letter to Nan in _my_ fifth year. I did write before the holidays actually started, but it was the first time that you, me and Ian stayed at Hogwarts together. Such a brilliant Christmas! 

And look at this photo. It does look a bit similar to the one we took before we left school, doesn’t it? The one in the frame in the bedroom. 

The one on the right is my dad. And next to him is Uncle Harry’s dad, obviously - they look so similar, don’t they? Not sure how I’d like it if I was the spitting image of Dad. I've tried but it feels a bit weird. The others are Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. Uncle Harry told me about them when he gave me the map. Best present ever!

It was the other photo, though, that got me thinking. Here, take the magnifying glass. There, see their hands?

That’s my dad and Sirius Black at Lily and James Potter's wedding. Holding hands! I know, it doesn’t have to mean anything. After I first went through the photos and everything, I had a dream. Odd dream, though. It was almost like a Pensieve, like getting sucked into someone else's memory. Only, I didn't just look on. I _was_ my dad in the dream.

~~*~~

The first thing Remus felt when he woke were the rough wooden floorboards in the Shrieking Shack pressing against his side where he lay curled up. His brain was still too fuzzy to register any injuries, but no pains when lying still was always a good sign. Remus shivered and hugged himself against the cold. He tried to force his eyes open so he could locate the blanket, not trusting himself with a warming spell - his wand was safe somewhere at school and his wandless magic wasn’t brilliant at the best of times and would likely to cause damage in his current state. Then, as if someone had read his mind, he heard a whisper and relaxed as a layer of warmth enveloped him.

"Moony? Are you awake?"

Sirius! But it couldn’t be. His friends had gone home yesterday. 

"Madam ... Pomfrey?" Remus croaked. 

The answering laugh was unmistakable. Remus finally managed to open his eyes, and there he was: Sirius Black, who should be at James’s, crouching on the floor next to him.

"Padfoot! What -" Remus pushed himself up with difficulty - his body wasn’t quite ready to do his bidding, still adjusting after the transformation - and thankfully leant against Sirius who had moved over immediately. "What are you doing here?" he started again.

"Wishing you a merry Christmas, of course!" Sirius grinned. 

"But how - why - when did you get back? Were you here last night?" Remus asked. There were no scratches on his body, and he always scratched or bit himself, unless Prongs, Wormtail and Padfoot were with him during the full moon.

"I was and so were James and Peter. Honestly, Remus, did you think we’d leave you alone?" A sound from the tunnel stopped him short and he hastily added, "Shite, it’s Pomfrey. I must go. I’ll see you at the hospital wing in a bit. I’ll bring James and Peter." 

Sirius quickly pressed his lips to Remus’s forehead before he got up to hide from Madam Pomfrey. Watching him leave, Remus smiled as he sank back onto the floor. 

The way back up to Hogwarts and to the hospital wing was a blur. Remus vaguely remembered the smell of potions and cleaning solution and crisp cotton sheets before he fell asleep.

Hushed voices woke him. He could feel the sunlight through his closed eyelids, blocked out by a shadowy from time to time. "Are you sure we shouldn't let him sleep?" Peter whispered as he leant closer. "He sure looks exhausted."

"I told you he was fine this morning."

"He'd want us to wake him. It's almost time for Christmas lunch and Roger Miller told me that we shouldn't miss it for anything," James added.

"Fair enough," Peter relented. "We can't just shake him awake though. Madam Pomfrey would have our heads."

Remus didn't doubt for a second that she would do exactly that. He mumbled, "'m awake," and sat up, blinking at the sudden brightness.

"Excellent!" said James. "Can you get up and walk and all that? You didn't pull a muscle or dislodge anything last night, did you?"

"No, I'm fine. I'll just tell Madam Pomfrey that I'm ready to leave." Remus swung his legs off the bed and took the trousers that Sirius offered him. Frowning, he added, "Does she know you're here?"

"Of course not. You know what she's like when someone dares disturb her patients." Sirius winked at him. "We'll wait outside."

Christmas lunch was indeed a fabulous affair, as was the snowball fight and the tons of sweets they annihilated in the common room afterwards. None of them felt like dinner and so they remained in the tower, lazing around in front of the fire. Peter was lying on his stomach, engrossed in his newest Martin Miggs comic, while James screwed up his tenth attempt of a letter to Lily Evans. On the couch, Remus took advantage of James and Peter's preoccupation and sneaked his hand across to Sirius's. He squeezed lightly, and when Sirius looked over, gestured towards the portrait hole. Sirius nodded.

"I think I'll walk up to the library for a bit, get started on those essays."

"You're insane, Moony! It's Christmas." James frowned at him, but Remus merely shrugged, which seemed to be enough answer for James to concentrate again on the parchment in front of him. 

"What time is it anyway? Sirius asked. "I promised to meet someone tonight."

That had Peter looking up from his comic. "Oh, who's the lucky girl?"

"I might tell you guys when I get back." Sirius grinned. "Come on, Moony. Let's go!"

They both got up and left the common room. As soon as they turned a corner and made sure that no one was around, Remus stopped. 

"What?" Sirius looked back over his shoulder.

Remus closed the distance and pushed Sirius against the wall. Before he could protest, Remus covered his lips with his own and kissed Sirius deeply. Sirius tasted like Christmas, sweet and spicy and with a hint of Bertie Bott's every-flavour beans. 

When they broke apart, Remus cupped Sirius's face with both his hands and pulled it towards him to give him a quick peck on the forehead. "I've been wanting to do that all day. Happy Christmas, Padfoot."

~~*~~

I know what you want to say. It’s just a dream. It’s a projection of my own experience. Yes, I remember that you, too, kissed me on the forehead after my Quidditch accident. Oh, and don’t give me that look. I’m well aware that Freud or one of his colleagues would have had a grand time analysing the implication of all this. But you know what? I’m not sure it’s just my subconscious being freaky. I’ll show you one last letter and you can decide for yourself what you want to believe.

So, should I speak to Uncle Harry about this? Do you reckon he'd know if anything like that actually happened? No, you're right. He is pretty clueless, or at least doesn't have a functioning gaydar. I mean, he must have seen pictures of his parents' wedding, right? Now that I think about it, I don't think Dad or Sirius Black brought dates; Peter did. See, I can't just be making this up. 

I wonder what happened to them, though. Did they just grow apart, did they fight, did they have to hide their feelings? And what about Mum? What about me? 

There is one thing, though, that I think about more than anything else. Don't you also think that it's sad that there's no one left to tell their story?


End file.
